


The Stableboy

by WaywardWolf007



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: (eventually) post!serum Steve, Like, M/M, Medieval AU, Mild language I think, Prince!Bucky, Stable boy!Steve, becasue I don't know where this is going???, but really nothing awful I don't think, i think, more tags to be added???, there is skinny Steve but only mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 08:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14972924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardWolf007/pseuds/WaywardWolf007
Summary: Steve was wrenched from his thoughts yet again when the stranger crashed down on him. By now Maxx, the prince’s horse and target of the thief, was uneasy and stomped his hooves on the hay-covered floor to prove it. Steve managed to tumble both of them out of the stall and into the light pouring through the open stable door. When the larger blonde finally managed to pin the brunette, what he saw made him freeze in shock. He knew that face. He should have listened to the voice and just walked home. But no.He had just fought and pinned the prince. As in prince James Buchannan Barnes of the Barnes Royal Family, rulers of all the Marvel Kingdom.Steve is pretty sure he punched him once or twice too.





	1. To Punch a Prince

Steve loved his job. He got to work with horses, knew the other stable hands, and had made a family with them. He was around the gorgeous beasts all hours of the day, grooming them, feeding them, just talking to them whike he spent hours brushing them down and making them shine. Sometimes, if the rider requested it, he could even slip a lead on and walk them around the palace pastures and lightly wooded copses.

Some days he liked to pretend he was a knight, just as he always wanted to be. Instead of worn leather boots and faded tunic, he would be clad in knight’s armor and leading the finest stallion through the streets of the crowded kingdom. Both their heads would be held high as people parted and gasped in awe on either side of him. In reality, nothing but the forest creatures parted for him, and the only gasps heard were those when Steve occasionally twisted an ankle on a root.

Steve was by no means ungrateful for the life he had, although it wasn't necessarily his lifelong dream to be a stable boy. Of course, Steve also never believed he would ever set foot on palace grounds aside from his knighting ceremony, believing himself to be better suited for war in far off lands.

Years ago, he came to the Royal City with his mother. They hoped to have a better life there than they could on the farm they just sold to make their new start. Alas, it was not meant to be. Steve's mother died only months afterward of her dreadful, reoccurring illness, and Steve was left penniless on the streets.

Despite the lack of food, he somehow hit a growth spurt, and gained over a foot and a half in height and more than doubled his former body weight in gained muscle. Most of his time after his miraculous upshot was spent hauling bags of flour for the baker that was the reason he lived after his mother died.

Her death still hurt Steve. They were extremely close and loved each other to the ends of the earth and back. Steve's father had died in combat long ago, before he was born. As a result, it was just Steve and his mother. And because of that, their bond was stronger than ever. Unfortunately, this meant that when she died, Steve felt like a limb had been torn off. He was physically in pain for the longest time, not to mention his mental state. The baker and his bread were the only things that kept Steve alive for months.

Looking back, Steve huffed a laugh at how they met, as he always did when the thought wandered into his mind. Steve had been standing up for some girl again, and was being beaten to high heaven again, until something changed. The fists stopped before he passed out, and an angry voice could be heard shouting at something. Steve assumed it was directed at whomever was giving the beating, because the boy jumped off of Steve and bolted away. Steve, for his part, just sagged back into the broken crate he had been thrown into, and allowed his head to loll to the side. His breath came in short wheezes, and he didn't see the man approaching until he was practically on top of him.

Fingers snapped in his face as someone asked if he was alive. Steve caught his breath barely enough to make an affirming sound before lapsing back into wheezing. The man blocking the sun stood up, causing Steve to squint at the bright light, and walked away. Steve vaguely remembered hearing a girl talking in a pleading voice before their conversation drifted farther away, and then was cut off by the closing of a door.

Steve had tried once to get up, and abruptly decided that the splintered wood was more comfortable than moving. Story of his life. What was not the story of his life, however, was when the man returned with a ball of something white in his hands. The hand unoccupied was extended to Steve, who shakily grasped it and was lifted to his feet, the world tilting for a few moments before it righted itself, and Steve along with it.

The man just looked at him in seemingly reluctant concern for a moment, and Steve took the time to take in his appearance. He was older and had what seemed to be a resting scowl. Then again, Steve had only just met him, so maybe he was just unhappy about talking to Steve. The puffy white hat and flour-marked apron made him instantly identifiable as a baker. With that in mind, when the white bundle was shoved into his hands with no small amount of grumbling, Steve assumed the warm, solid substance was bread. The shrimpy blonde gaped at the bundle for a few moments before looking up in shock. By then the man was turning away and marching back to the back door of his shop, still grumbling even as he slammed the door.

After that Steve managed to work out that the man was Chester Phillips, was a ranked officer in the King's army, retired, and now owned the bakery in the quieter part of the Royal City. Evidently, he had also taken in a northern girl named Peggy, who happened to be the girl he was defending. Steve was far too proud to accept Peggy's offer to move in, not that he had any belief that Phillips would let him in, and again, Steve's pride wouldn't have allowed him to accept an offer like that anyway.

Thus, an odd sort of symbiosis was formed. Phillips would give Steve bread whenever the blonde passed his shop or was done unloading the biweekly deliveries of flour, even when Steve said he didn't need it. Peggy showed Steve around the outskirts of the City and all the best hiding places, one of which, under the big oak tree, became Steve's dwelling for quite some time. Within a fortnight, Steve had met Howard. Howard was special. He was the son of some nobleman and possessed the uncanny capability to build anything from basically nothing. He constantly saw what things could become, not what they were. Steve had long given up trying to follow Howard’s conversations when he indignantly went off about how “that is not just a crate, Steve! Don’t you see? It could be the missing piece to some obscure invention that is important but will probably never work and blah blah blah!” At least that is what Steve heard. When the Stark got an idea in his head, Steve knew better than to interject during his explanation. He also knew better than to try to keep up, as he would never understand anyway.

This merry band of three became inseparable instantaneously. Even when Steve was hired to be a hand at the Royal Stable due to his inexplicable yet natural way with horses and quiet but gentle nature, he kept in contact with Howard and Peggy. He constantly visited the pair. After all, without them, Steve would probably still be a skinny little weakling, roaming the streets and surviving on pure spite and willpower. Not that Steve still didn’t survive like that, but there was bread added to the equation now. That always helped.

Even grouchy old Phillips gave him a mumbled congratulations after a half-hearted jab about not having anyone to haul flour anymore. Peggy instantly piped up and commented that she had been helping long before Steve had, and Phillips, in spite of himself, allowed a smile to be pulled from his permanently irritated expression as he chuckled at the spirited lass he had taken in. With his blessing, and Peggy’s satchel (“Really, Pegs, I can’t accept this-“ “You can and you will.”) Steve had made for the Royal Stables where his new, but already great, friend Sam had procured a job for him.

A whinny from the dappled mare beside him dragged Steve back to reality as they approached the stables once more. Turning to the smaller guest stable, he was partly relieved to see no one but the other horses of the nobles in the city for some meeting or another. Steve never really paid attention to the politics of things, only that they existed, and because the politics existed, he could spend more time with more horses. He smiled at the mare. Somehow, she was better company than most other humans he met. With a small sigh, Steve returned the horse – Star, if he remembered the name correctly; she was a new one – to her stall and slipped the lead from behind her ears before hanging it on the nail to his right.

Star flipped her head over the gate and nuzzled Steve gently as he turned to walk away. Steve gave a little chuckle and turned back to the impatient Spanish mare to place a hand tenderly under her chin and gently pet her nose with the other. The soft pink skin twitched slightly under Steve’s calloused fingers, but ultimately did nothing more than snort quietly and push into the palm caressing her. Steve leaned forward and touched their foreheads together, breathing in the musty smell of the stable, listening to the swish of mane and muffled clopping of hooves.

He wouldn’t trade this for the world.

The fading sunlight filtering through the open door reminded Steve that he had a tree to get back to. Reluctantly, he stepped away from the grey mare and turned to get his satchel from where it was stashed in the corner of one of the rafters. Ignoring Star’s irritated huff at his lack of attention to her, Steve allowed a small smile as he gained some speed with a light jog before jumping and planting his foot soundly on the far wall post. He launched noiselessly into the air. For a moment, he floated for a bit and then hooked a hand in the strap of his bag. In moments, his worn brown boots were kicking up dust from the stable floor and his, already scuffed, lighter  brown pants had another layer of dust added.

He shook out his faded dark green tunic in an attempt to at least keep his upper half relatively clean and made for the door as he slung his bag across his chest. At this point, he should probably think about getting a place to stay. He had four months’ wages built up already, and the only thing he spent it on was bread from Phillips. Even then, every time he somehow ended up with more than he paid for, and every time Steve would try to sneak in more money than what he owed in an attempt to pay Phillips back for the extra bread the older man would never admit to giving him.

Steve smiled fondly as he latched the stable gate behind him and started down the path to his tree. However, just as he was about to turn his back on the palace grounds, he saw movement. Someone hunched over, in a cloak, was headed for the Grand Stable. That stable was much larger and contained the horses of the Royal Family and the elite of the King’s staff. Steve could hear a nagging voice at the back of his head to let it go and stop getting into fights. The female, accented voice rang out as clearly as if the woman were right next to Steve, lecturing him on reckless behavior.

As he would have done had his self-appointed conscience actually been with him, he ignored the voice and launched silently as possible in a run to the larger building. He sidled up to the wall closest to him before risking a slow peak around the corner. He was just in time to see the flash of a cloak as it disappeared inside the stable, leaving the gate wide open. Steve made a split-second decision and, keeping low, stalked quietly to the gate and peeked in again. His satchel caught on a bush and made a rustling sound. The intruder made a quick motion just as Steve ducked back out of sight. Steve counted to fifteen before carefully sliding off his satchel, tucking it behind the bush that had almost exposed him, and leaning into the stable once more. The instant he had a fix on where the intruder was, Steve did not hesitate. He launched at the figure, giving it no time to recover as he slammed his full weight behind his tackle and sent them both crashing to the earth in a painful, flailing tumble of limbs.

Steve managed to identify the lithe but hard muscles of a male as he pinned him, one knee on the thief’s back and pinning his wrists to the ground. However, the thump of someone dismounting a horse caused Steve's head to snap up, realizing that they were not the only two in the stable. Unfortunately, the intruder needed only that momentary lapse of concentration to heave Steve off his back and roll into a fighting crouch. Steve landed slightly winded but got to his knees in an attempt to brace for an attack.

It never came. Steve gathered his bearings to see the form that had distracted him slam into the figure of the intruder as he launched for Steve. The blonde knelt there for a moment in shock before shaking his head to clear it and returning his attention to the scuffle going on a few feet to his right.

Steve couldn’t exactly see who was winning, nor who was who. Both men – and they were definitely men – had dark clothes on, and were keeping so low to the ground and rolling so often Steve was absolutely clueless as to who had the upper hand. But really, what was he going to do with that information anyway? Would he help the loser and risk it being the intruder? Were they both intruders? Steve was saved from a decision when one pinned the other and exchanged words in an angry hiss.

Something must have registered with the pinned fighter, because as soon as he focused on the victor, he paled and went limp. Said victor proceeded to slowly roll away from the other cloaked figure, allowing him to bolt away, seemingly as fast as his legs could carry him. Steve, for his part, was still kneeling in the dust trying to comprehend what in the world was going on.

He was snapped to reality when the remaining cloaked figure pulled back his hood and shook out what looked to be very soft, shoulder length, brown hair. The stranger ran a hand through said locks to push them out of his face. If Steve had thought he was screwed with the hair, all coherent thought went out the window when he saw the guy’s face.

The chiseled jawline with its distinct lack of stubble framed a face with plush lips that seemed to rest in a playfully mischievous smirk and eyes that flashed with a light color, probably blue or light green, in the pale moonlight and final, fading tendrils of sunlight. Those eyes were as sharp as they were alluring, and almost immediately locked onto Steve in a piercing, intense gaze. Steve snapped his mouth closed and audibly swallowed.

This seemed to break whatever spell was holding them both in place. The intruder whipped back around to the chestnut stallion behind him and attempted to launch into the saddle. Steve snapped out of the trance as well, however, and had enough presence of mind to throw himself forward and grasp the ankles of the fleeing male, yanking him down via the grip on shiny black leather boots. Expensive shiny black leather boots. What kind of thief went for the prince’s horse, attacked another intruder, and wore custom, expensive, clean boots?

Steve was wrenched from his thoughts yet again when the stranger crashed down on him. By now Maxx, the prince’s horse and target of the thief, was uneasy and stomped his hooves on the hay-covered floor to prove it. Steve managed to tumble both of them out of the stall, out of range of any accidentally crushing hooves, and into the light pouring through the open stable door. When the larger blonde finally managed to pin the brunette, what he saw made him freeze in shock. He knew that face. He should have listened to the voice and just walked home. But no.

He had just fought and pinned the prince. As in prince James Buchannan Barnes of the Barnes Royal Family, rulers of all the Marvel Kingdom.

Steve is pretty sure he punched him once or twice too.

 


	2. Princely Petulance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some words are exchanged. Opinions are made. Steve is equally as childish as Bucky.

“Get off me!” Bucky whispered as loud as he dared, attempting to lace as much contempt into the command as possible. The blonde on top of him, whom Bucky assumed to be a stable boy, seemed to startle for a moment, the wide blue eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to shake off shock, probably. Bucky did not have time for this. He shoved the larger boy off and rolled to the side. Getting his feet under him, he stood and did his best to brush off the dust his clothes were laden with from not one, but two scuffles in the dirt.

The nerve of this moron! Granted, Bucky amended, a very handsome, very muscular moron. What?! No. Just a moron. What was wrong with him? He was not focusing on the devastatingly gorgeous male beside him, also brushing off his clothes. Wait. What was he wearing? How long had he had those boots? And that tunic? They looked like something worn through, turned inside out, worn through again, and reversed to see if it could last another year. He should get some better clothes. Wait, Bucky didn’t care! He did not care that the boy obviously didn’t have another set of clothes and was most likely a poor commoner. The thought of the blonde being poor did not sit well with Bucky for some reason, settling a little stone of discomfort in Bucky’s gut.

Even under the badly cut fabric, Bucky could tell the guy was obviously insanely strong. He allowed his eyes to drag up the muscled legs as they stretched the fabric when the blonde knelt before standing, up the clearly small waist, to the shoulders nearly as broad as the horizon.

And the face! Innocent blue eyes atop defined cheekbones and a gentle curve of lips. Strong jawline for a strong guy, and when he fully stood up, he was just taller than Bucky.

Unfortunately, he was blocking Bucky’s horse.

“Well?” he impatiently asked the other man, crossing his arms and glaring. The blonde seemed to startle and look up at Bucky with wide eyes again. He looked unfairly like a lost fawn. Bucky chased those thoughts right out of his head and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. “I need my horse,” he ordered. “Whenever you see fit to move,” he snarked, “I’ll be taking him.”

There was a noticeable shift in the blonde, then. He squared his shoulders and stood up a little straighter, his gaze leveling Bucky. The prince swallowed. “Will you now? What if I don’t see fit to move?” the stable boy challenged in a deep voice that did not give the prince shivers. Bucky couldn’t stop it, his mouth dropped open at the gall of this servant.

“Excuse me?” Bucky managed to choke out, internally wincing at the slightly higher pitch of his voice and clearing his throat. However, before he had the chance to try again, the blonde reared his head and seemed to shift into a defensive stance.

“You are excused,” he quipped in reply to Bucky's acquisition. Bucky was shocked. How dare this stunningly handsome stable boy talk to him – the prince! – like that? Bucky didn’t even think before snapping out a reply.

“How dare you talk to me like that? Do you know who I am? Why are you even out here?” Bucky accused, going for appalled and insulted and pulling it off well, if he did say so himself. He was pleased that this time his voice was at his normal bass tone and much less effected by the messy emotions crowding around in his head. His satisfaction was short lived, however, as the blond wasted no time in shooting back a response.

“Why are you out here?” he fired back. Bucky was once more rendered speechless as he floundered for a response.

“I was protecting my horse!” the brunette indignantly huffed, finally finding an excuse, and being proud of his quick thinking.

“Really?” the stranger drawled in his irritatingly sexy voice as his equally irritatingly sexy face twisted into an expression not unlike that of an impish elf that knew something no one else did, or a satisfied cat that knew it had its prey cornered. Bucky realized a second too late his mistake. “And that’s why you were out in the stables before the intruder came in, and were trying to make off into the night on the horse when I tackled the other thief?”

“I am not a thief! How dare you compare me to that penniless cretin!” Bucky lashed out in a snarl, attempting to be mindful of his volume, glancing to the door nervously to check for other guards or stable boys. A spark seemed to light in the other boy’s eyes as his jaw clenched.

“Oh, I see. So anyone that is poor is automatically a cretin! Maybe think before classifying people on what they have rather than who they are!” The blonde seemed genuinely enraged, and Bucky furiously pushed down the twinge of guilt the stable boy’s disappointed but angry expression managed to elicit from him.

“I never said that!” Bucky defended, tone taking on a more desperate edge.

“Well you implied it nicely!” the stranger snapped back. Bucky paused, at a loss for words. The stranger seemed to huff a breath and was about to continue his argument when soft clanking from outside made them both freeze. Thinking quickly, Bucky grabbed the blonde by his tunic, put a hand over his mouth to muffle the indignant response, and threw them both into Maxx’s stall. He landed on top of the other boy and managed to cut off whatever the blonde was about to say with the look he threw over his shoulder as he silently pulled the gate closed.

They sat there for a moment, cramped against the left wall of the stall as they listened for the clanking of the guard’s armor to pass. The thumping drew nearer and nearer before seeming to stop in front of the stable door. The other boy's breath ghosted over Bucky's neck, and the prince attempted to suppress a shudder, as the blonde would surely feel it through his legs, which had Bucky's resting atop them. Bucky could hear one guard conferring with the other, checking that the stable was empty. His breath caught in his throat and he thought he heard the stranger’s do the same when a footstep echoed through the structure as one guard set foot inside.

Abruptly after the heart-stoping noise, he heard the other guard convincing the explorer to come back, as whatever noise he heard was probably just the horses. Bucky managed to catch something that sounded like “Yes, Ralf, horses do make noise when they move! I know, it’s a crazy new concept, but- Ow!” the yelp was accompanied by a metallic hitting sound, leaving Bucky to assume that one had hit the other over the head. A small smile hijacked his lips as the two moved away, their gentle banter fading into the night along with their footsteps.

About five minutes passed in silence, the only sounds breaking it were the soft snorting of the horses and muffled clopping of their hooves. Bucky decided it was safe to move. He swung away from the muscled figure below him, opened the gate, and stood as he exited the stall, hearing the other boy shuffle out after him.

Bucky turned to look at his accomplice and saw the blonde shaking the hay out of his hair. It was actually quite endearing. No, no. Not endearing, he was not an accomplice, he was a stable boy in the way of Bucky's escape. Bucky was mad at him. Very mad. Blue eyes shifted up to lock with his own gray irises and what was Bucky thinking about again? Suddenly the blonde seemed to remember something and immediately broke eye contact to intently stare at the ground. His shoulders slumped, and Bucky's brow furrowed in concern as this stranger, so passionate and unbroken not moments ago, bowed right before him.

“Uh, are you okay, umm…?” he eloquently inquired, mentally berating himself even as the words fumbled out of their own volition. It was even more awkward because he had no idea what the stable boy’s name was. Despite that, evidently even Bucky's own mind knew it had to say something in response to this, frankly worrying, display of completely opposite behavior of the other boy.

“Steve,” the stranger quietly supplied. “My name is Steve, your Highness.” Oh. So that’s the reason for the demeanor change. The confused expression remained on Bucky's face, however, because the stable boy – Steve, apparently – had recognized him before, and still treated him like the intruder he had been, even after knowing he was the prince. His confusion must have been evident, as Steve rushed to explain his earlier behavior.

“I am so sorry for my earlier actions, your Highness.” Bucky blanched at the title. “I just get defensive sometimes, when I think someone is insulting a person or group of people unjustly. I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut when I should.”

“Enough with the ‘your Highness’s,” Bucky ordered, causing Steve's head to jerk up in surprised shock. “I hate that title. Call me Bucky. We literally just had a roll in the hay, so I think we are on pretty friendly terms.” Bucky went for the joking avenue and slapped on a winning smile that usually charmed the stars out of the sky. He figured the stars could stay up there with the moon for now, as long as he got a chance to right things with the cute stable boy. Steve, he reminded himself.

Steve blushed at the innuendo, and oh. It was possible for him to be cuter. Bucky resisted the impulse to even think about making the blonde blush more, preferably as much as possible for a long time. Which was absurd. For God’s sake, he was a prince! He was not swept off his feet by commoners, he swept them off their feet!

Steve smiled.

Bucky melted.

“So, Bucky, then. I should probably let you get back to wherever you were going then.” Steve was still smiling that open, cheerful smile that had Bucky's stomach doing flips and his heart feeling like a skipping stone bouncing over water. He blinked when Steve shifted to the side to allow Bucky passage to Maxx. However, Bucky whipped his attention back to Steve when the other let out a barely audible grunt and gingerly placed an arm around his midsection.

Within seconds, Bucky was by his side. “What’s wrong?” he asked, still keeping his voice hushed, but leaning in so Steve could hear. His hands hovered just breaths away from Steve's arms, wanting to touch but not sure if it would help or if he was allowed.

Steve glanced up, something akin to surprise in his eyes before he quickly looked back down at his abdomen. “’S probably nothin’,” the blonde gritted out after coughing slightly to clear his throat. “Probably just got nicked by a hoof or one of you cloaked thieves managed to land a punch somewhere in all that flailing you call fighting,” he continued, a teasing glimmer in his expression as his mouth belied his intent with a soft smile.

Bucky returned it full force. He reached up, ruffled the other boy’s hair, and replied “Punk.”

“Jerk,” was the immediate response, just as lighthearted.

Bucky spared a few more seconds smiling before sobering up and looking back to where Steve was still curling his arm around himself. Steve seemed oblivious and just continued smiling, assuring Bucky he was okay. “Really, Buck! I’m fine! I’ve had way worse!”

Not the right thing to say.

“Worse?” Bucky echoed, far more concerned than their brief meeting should have allowed, but Steve just gave a sheepish grin and half-shrug that ended in a poorly concealed wince. “That’s it, I'm taking you to get patched up.”

Bucky grabbed Steve's free right wrist and tugged him gently to the stable door. He glanced back to make sure the other boy was okay before an important question dawned on him. “You have any family that’ll be looking for you?”

A shadow flickered over Steve's face before he shook his head, and the expression flew off with the action. “No family, maybe two friends that will wonder where I am if I'm not back by tomorrow evening, but that’s all.” Steve cast his eyes away after he gave Bucky his answer, obviously lost in thought.

Bucky gently tugged his arm to regain his attention before smiling kindly at him. Steve, consciously or not, mimicked the smile Bucky emitted, making his face look even softer than before. Bucky wanted to give this man a hug. But that, he was sure was not acceptable by any means. So he continued to push his luck on what had been working thus far and peeked out the frame of the stable doorway. A surge of emotion ranging from irrational happiness at the shortened nickname "Buck" to the overwhelming urge to protect and comfort until that shadow a grief was chased away for good flashed through Bucky's mind. They embedded themselves firmly in his consciousness, and only a fierce shake of his head ousted them to the back of his thoughts so he could focus on the task at hand.

After making sure the path was clear of guards, he tugged Steve's wrist to let him know they were moving.

Not one foot out the door, Steve twisted his hand so his fingers laced with Bucky's. The prince felt the flush start at the tops of his ears, spread across his cheeks, and seep down into his chest as he turned back to see what the hell Steve was doing. He was utterly lost until the blonde gave a little pull at their joined hands and Bucky realized he was only linking fingers to get a grip on Bucky and tug him over to a… bush?

Or rather, what was behind the bush. Bucky was still confused as Steve released his midsection and used that arm to reach behind the shrub and seemingly feel around for something. He swore softly after a grunt of pain, but before Bucky could move to help, he made a triumphant noise and pulled away from the greenery. In his hand, he grasped an old satchel, as worn as the other cloth items he was wearing. Bucky gave a small, amused smile at the beaming look of pride Steve had donned before rolling his eyes and pulling Steve toward the castle.

Behind him, he heard Steve chuckle quietly and sling his bag over his shoulder.

Neither complained that Bucky left their hands linked. And frankly, Bucky was damn pleased about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So huge shout out to all that commented! Thank you for all the encouragement and also to all that gave me kudos! I live for the stuff! Really, comments give me life-blood.  
> Also shout out to my girl Estrella3791! She has stuck with me through countless crappy situations and is an amazing writer, you should go see her! Love you, Star!  
> Anyway, thank you for reading all this. Yay! Lots of Bucky! It's even in his perspective! Hehe... No idea where that came from... Whoops... And is that romance I spy!?! Why yes! Yes it is. So anyway, comments and kudos WORSHIPPED!!! If y'all have the time/inclination! Thanks for reading my lil fic, and can't wait to see y'all next chapter! <3 :)

**Author's Note:**

> Heyy sooooo. This is my first slash... That I'm actually sticking with and clawing into existence... Because I swear I can write things I just get distracted???  
> Anyway. Hope y'all liked it. I know, not much Bucky yet, but next chapter is gonna be all him and Steve! I think, or at least mostly. Comments welcome and encouraged! Feedback too! Much appreciated! Just preferably gentle feedback. Gentle plez.  
> So yup will be posting more eventually. Hopefully I'll get through this one. Not gonna lie, I'm not sure when updates will be coming out, if any of y'all care about that. Depends on feedback and life??? I can promise I'll try my best.  
> Anyway, wow! You took the time to read this! You are a good person. I wish y'all the best! And get some sleep! (I know I need it!) :)


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